


Immortal Image

by oorsprong



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, M/M, darkside husbands, don't we all, more folklore, talk of aging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:07:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6358720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oorsprong/pseuds/oorsprong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“If I had your image now it would be good enough.  But every day you get older.  I want to see you get older.  I don’t want to look back on all those times we were young and see you young forever-- knowing we had more days together and those days were better.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Immortal Image

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Milarca](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milarca/gifts).



> This piece exists within the framework of the series [That Unsteady Afterglow](http://archiveofourown.org/series/400483) and as such uses its terms and context. But I sincerely hope it can be enjoyed separately.
> 
> Please check out [PolypusRegina](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PolypusRegina)'s beautiful art piece for this story [here](https://36.media.tumblr.com/dd1c7983e215dd89c9ebefeecd7cd918/tumblr_o4pmoxbXI41r2em6fo1_540.png)

The quarters that Brendol Hux and Kylo Ren share on the Leviathan are luxurious compared to the former General’s rooms when he commanded the Finalizer.  They have a living room in which to receive guests, a small study, and a bed big enough for both of them.  There are no windows as these rooms are in the heart of the ship, but every effort has been made towards providing open and natural light.  One could grow a plant here if one were willing to make the effort.

 

Brendol doesn’t spend much time in these quarters.  He’s picked up a small job working with the mechanics on the dock and goes there daily to make himself useful.  Keeping busy is important and as he’s no longer an unofficial adviser to Fiiranza he finds himself with more free time than he’s comfortable with.

 

As a hobby he spends a lot of time reading the archives available on the library portal.  He goes to the ship’s common areas to do this.  Making himself visible is an old habit that has yet to die with the removal of his rank.  There is a wealth of ancient history at his fingertips and studying it is a good way to pass the time.  If he’s honest with himself keeping busy is for Ren’s good as much as his.  Now that they’re together again and he’s stepped back from any official duties his husband has become a bit too conscious of exactly how much Brendol has given up in order to be with him.

 

“You should go back to your old position,” Ren tells him occasionally.  “Fiiranza would be happy to have you.”

 

_What I’m doing here is more important_ , Brendol wants to reassure him but he can’t yet.  He can’t explain without being patronizing.  Fiiranza would have him on call.  Ren needs a partner who is present and available to him at any time.

 

Just now he’s having occasion to recall that particular decision when Ren arrives home in a fit of rage.  To an outside observer his calm might come off as a particular coldness but getting upset on Ren’s behalf only pushes him further into emotional upheaval.  He’s here to be a quiet spot; a focusing point for his increasingly force-sensitive husband.

 

After a moment of frustrated pacing Ren allows himself to be taken by the hand and led into the bedroom.  Brendol sits on the floor with the base of the bed at his back for support and tugs Ren down to join him.  His datapad is already here.  This is their spot.  This is where Ren can come to for comfort.

 

After a moment the knight leans against him and huffs softly against his shoulder.  Brendol reaches over and strokes his hair, massages Ren’s scalp with his fingertips until the knight’s breathing slows.  Then he glances down at his datapad.  He’s queued up several stories that he’s found in the archives.  All are Halla legends and there is a particular one he’s familiar with that Ren hasn’t heard yet.

 

“This is the story of Taborha Sarib, the painter,” he reads.  “There was once a man name Taborha of the house of Sarib.  He had twin children who were so beautiful that they were taken to the house of Villali seven cycles after their weaning.  Taborha painted their images on a great canvas in his home so that he and his wife could look at them even while they were away.

 

Seven cycles later one twin returned but not the other.  Taborha wept for the loss of his child.  In the night he mixed a new batch of paint and went to his canvas, intending to black out the image of the twin who had passed into the house of the stars.  When he took to the paper a voice stopped him; it was the voice of his lost child.

 

‘Please don’t blot me out,’ the child said, ‘for as long as you remember my face I will be young in your eyes forever.  This is my legacy, my gift to you, Father.’

 

Taborha built a shrine in front of the image and when the living twin beheld the work her father had done she asked him to mix his paints again.

 

‘Please blot me out,’ the living child said, ‘for as long as I breathe you need not hold my image hostage.  I will grow into an old woman before your eyes.  This is my legacy, my gift to you, Father.’

 

Taborha blacked out the image of the living child and so the family came to remember at the altar and the living child was allowed to grow and become a woman of her own.”

 

Brendol stares at the screen for a moment after he’s read the last sentence.

 

“Don’t be sad,” Ren murmurs sleepily beside him.

 

“I’m not…”  He stops himself.  There’s no point hiding anything from Ren.  “It’s a sad story.”

 

“It’s not.”  Ren yawns and stretches, offers a weary smile.  “You think it’s sad because you imagine yourself as the living twin.  Think about the one who… died?  Is that what it means?”

 

“Yes,” Brendol says gently, “passing into the house of the stars is the Halla euphemism for death.”

 

“Think of that twin,” Ren continues.  His body softens as he snuggles closer to his husband.  He’ll sleep soon and likely on the floor if Brendol doesn’t get him to bed.  

 

“That twin gets to live forever in the painting.  That twin is beyond pain or suffering.  It’s good for the living one too.  She gets to grow up instead of living her sibling’s shadow.”

 

“Never thought of it that way,” Brendol says, surprised.  “I honestly imagined it was just a sad story about loss.”

 

“Because you don’t like fairy tales,” Ren says fondly.  “You take everything at face value.”

 

“Hm.”  Brendol kisses the top of his head and stands, holding a hand out to Ren.

 

“Do you think you’ll manage to stay asleep tonight?”

 

“If you stay awake... hold me until I fall asleep,” the knight says without a trace of hesitation or shame.  

 

As they prepare for bed Ren gazes at him with a solemn look Brendol knows too well.

 

_What are you thinking?_

 

Ren shakes his head and crawls under the covers.  Brendol slips in besides him, reaches for him and pulls him into a tight embrace.  He can stay awake all night if he has to.  He’s done it before.  He can catch the nightmares before they reach their terrible peak.  Long-term exposure to darkside energy always brings the nightmares.  It’s a side-effect that can’t be helped.

 

_I was thinking that I don’t have any images of you.  For when you die._

 

He’s shocked into laughter.  “How utterly morbid.”

 

“No,” Ren says, he’s scowling-- Brendol can hear it in his voice.  “Practical.  I thought you’d like that.  But I wouldn’t know when to take it.  I’d want to remember you like the last time I saw you.  It might be better not to have an image at all.”

 

He pushes back a little so they can observe one another.

 

“If I had your image now it would be good enough.  But every day you get older.  I want to see you get older.  I don’t want to look back on all those times we were young and see you young forever-- knowing we had more days together and those days were better.”

 

Brendol shifts, brushes a lock of dark hair back from that oddly sweet face.  At least he finds it so.  He knows that between the scar and the permanent scowl his husband wears these days most people find Kylo Ren intimidating. Brendol, on the other hand, can’t get over how vulnerable he’s remained after all this time.

 

“Why would those days be better, necessarily?

 

“More memories behind them,” Ren replies simply.

 

There’s a refreshing logic in that.   _More memories behind them._  

 

“Do you want an image of me?” Brendol asks after a long moment, tracing Ren’s cheek with one finger.  “Something you can keep with you?”  He’s painfully aware that he’s speaking to Ren almost as one would a child but sometimes in these dark moments that’s what the knight responds to.

 

“No, Brell.”  Ren sighs and buries his face in his neck.

 

_Just keep getting older.  You know… as long as you can._

 

Brendol thinks about that long after his knight has finally found his way to dreamless sleep.  It’s an easy promise to make; the least of what one person can promise another.  But maybe it’s also something Ren is telling him about those obligations he’s always thinking of.  Maybe Ren’s telling him it’s enough for Brendol to just be there, aging as he’s supposed to and not leaving him with the immortal youth of his image.  

  
For his husband’s sake, he just has to keep getting older as long as he can.


End file.
